


30 Days of Caryl

by subversivegrrl



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: 30 Days of Caryl, Drabble Collection, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 10:41:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12579928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subversivegrrl/pseuds/subversivegrrl
Summary: Written for Rhinozilla's"30 Days of Caryl" fic challenge on Tumblr, summer 2014. I didn't complete all 30 days, but here are the ones I was inspired to do.These have been posted over on Nine Lives, but never made it here for some reason.





	1. Day 6: Big spoon and little spoon

_“Big Dipper. Piece of cake. And then…” Her pointing finger followed the line of stars out to the ‘handle.’ “There. Little Dipper.”_

_“Aw, that’s a gimme. You want to impress me, you’re gonna have to come up with something a little harder than that.” He honestly didn’t give a shit what she knew about the constellations, he just wanted to keep her talking. He loved feeling the vibration of her voice through her belly, under the back of his head. The way it quivered when she laughed._

_In moments like this he could almost be convinced he’d outrun the doom that had followed him all his life, that had taught him that love and trust were myths and offered in their place only fear and blind obedience. She’d taught him differently. Some day he’d find the stones to show her how much that meant to him._

_She poked him hard in the chest. “Maybe it’s a gimme, but it’s important. The Big Dipper points to the North Star, and you can use it find your direction. You taught me that.” She yawned hugely and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. “Besides, you should be impressed anyway. I’m half asleep up here. Lucky I’m still speaking in complete sentences.”_

_Her hand came back to rest over his heart, right where she’d jabbed him, rubbing gently like she was reassuring herself he was still present, and he was seized by an urge to take that hand and kiss it, like a fucking schoolkid._

_The next moment she saved him from making a complete idiot of himself. “I should check on Patrick before I go to bed. He wasn’t feeling well earlier - I don’t think it’s anything too serious, some kind of bug, but… he’s still a kid.”_

_“And that’s what you do - you take care of people.” He felt rather than saw her shrug. “Ain’t news to me. You go ahead. I’ll be down in just a bit.”_

Two days later she was gone. Everything was gone. And that shit he was starting to believe - it was a lie after all.

* * * * *

He hadn’t let himself think about her. Every time her face swam up out of his subconscious he thrust her away from him, back into the dark. _Best to let her rest in peace._ She came to him when he least expected it, reminding him of who he was, and in his head he screamed, _not without you. I ain’t that man._

When he fell into the dirt by the railroad tracks, so spent from his fruitless pursuit of whoever took Beth that his legs just gave out on him, spilling him to the ground - then she’d been with him, her hand gentle on him, telling him he’d done more than anyone could expect. Telling him he was a good man, but a man nonetheless. Not a superhero.

When he went with Joe and his boys, she’d been in his head every night as he slipped down into sleep. _You do what you have to to stay alive, Daryl, but don’t let this one get too close. He’ll take your soul if he can._

She stepped out of the trees into the clearing and he was sure she was another phantasm, his hidden conscience, come to reassure him yet again.

But ghosts didn’t have dirt on their faces.

He didn’t even remember moving, but then he was in front of her, and her eyes were so wide with fear it shot a bolt through his heart. 

His throat screwed itself into a knot as her face resolved from a blur into well-loved planes and angles - wisps of silver hair stuck to her temples, the web of crinkles at the corners of her eyes, her mouth half open as though to speak…

The moment he touched her cheek her eyes fell shut, and she stepped forward into his arms, all stillness and relief.

* * * * *

She stayed right by his side, never farther away than arm’s reach, until everyone else dispersed to their beds for the night. Whether that was caution or comfort he wasn’t sure, and didn’t much care. If she hadn’t kept close by, he would have.

He stood from their place by the fire and took her hand. “C’mon.” He led her to a sheltered spot a little ways away from the others and settled himself on the ground beside her. No pillow but his own arm, nothing to cushion his body from the cooling earth beneath him, but her warmth and nearness made it the finest bed he’d had in days.

He let his hand rest on her hip, needing to be sure she was there and real, and she pushed herself over and set her back against him, pulling his arm around her and holding it close.

“Big spoon,” she said softly. It was the first thing she’d said since full dark had fallen. Her hand reached back and cupped his face, running her fingers along his jawline. “Big Dipper. Pointing me the way home.”

His arm tightened around her middle for just a second, almost like a reflex. “North Star’s part of the Little Dipper, though. One doesn’t work without the other.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's funny to go back and read these later. For instance, this was written before season 5 aired, so the image of her stepping out of the trees with dirt on her face was just speculation at the time.


	2. Day 8: The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU, no governor/no Woodbury because they’re so damned inconvenient.

When she awoke he was gone, and if it weren’t for the heady scent of sex on her sheets and the discomfort of strained muscles in long-disused locations she might have convinced herself the whole thing had been just a torrid and extremely explicit dream.

Maggie smirked at Carol with barely repressed laughter as she drag-assed into the kitchen, sending up a silent thank you that there was even half a cup of coffee left in the pot. Partially fortified, she raised her eyes to the younger woman and said with resignation, “Okay, let me have it.”

“Oh. My. _God_ , Carol,” Maggie teased, her eyes dancing with delight. “I can hardly look at you without blushin’.”

Carol’s own cheeks were bright pink with a combination of mortification, pride, and the heat of remembered hours of making love with Daryl. “I take it we were loud, then.”

Maggie’s shrill laughter rang into the rafters. “Loud? No, darlin’. Daryl’s bike is loud. Thunder is loud. ‘Loud’ isn’t the issue. This was more like _oh my god what is that man doin’ to her?_ I don’t think I’ve heard noises like that since the last time we butchered a hog back at the farm.”

Carol buried her face in her hands, laughing helplessly. “I’m so embarrassed. I swear, we tried to keep it down, but,” her voice dropped almost to a whisper, “it was _just too damn good_.”

“You’d have to be a hell of an actress if it hadn’t been. I will tell you that Glenn was, um, inspired, so - thank you.” The two of them burst into laughter again, cackling until tears ran down their faces. Maggie made a sort of braying sound, which set them both off again, until they both collapsed over the table. 

“I almost hate to ask,” Carol said, wiping her face, “but have you seen the man this morning? He wasn’t in bed when I woke up, and he wasn’t in his own bunk.”

“I did see him, although he was so shriveled up I hardly recognized him,” Maggie joked. “Last I saw he was headed to the tower. I think he sent Ty off to bed just before dawn.”

“What on earth were you doing up at that hour?” Carol asked.

“Well,” Maggie said, rolling her eyes, “I was _tryin’_ to get some sleep, but the neighbors were up partyin’ ‘til all hours, so I figured I’d get up and put the beans in to soak for dinner tonight.”

“Thanks, Maggie. And sorry for keeping you awake. I’ll go check on him now, maybe take over for him. Lord knows he didn’t get any more sleep than I did.” A thought occurred to her as she reached the door - “You didn’t happen to say anything to him, did you? About, about… overhearing us?”

Maggie grinned. “I can promise you I don’t have a deathwish, so no, I didn’t say anything. But I might have… winked.”

Carol made the climb into the guard tower, feeling like it had somehow had at least an extra storey added to its height in the previous twenty-four hours. As she pushed the trap open she saw Daryl slumped back in one of the folding chairs with his feet up on the counter. His head turned as she came off the ladder, and he looked at her with bleary eyes.

“Don’t suppose you brought any coffee with you?” 

“Sorry, I should have thought to make some fresh before I came up. I’m sure we both could use it.” She casually swung her leg over him and deposited herself on his lap.

“Hey,” he said, shifting beneath her, bringing his feet down onto the floor and shoving himself back to sit upright. 

“Too heavy?”

He shook his head and visibly tried to figure out where to put his hands that wouldn’t be considered too familiar.

“Daryl,” she said softly, “look at me.” She caught his hands and planted them on her hips, ending that controversy. “If this makes you too uncomfortable I’ll go back downstairs, and we can talk later. But I think after last night we’re well past the point where we need to be shy with each other.” She curled herself into his chest, putting her lips right by his ear. “ _You kissed me last night in places I’m not even sure my doctor’s seen_ ,” she whispered, and she felt the heat of his skin as his face flushed beet red.

“You’ve been up here for a while, what do you say we find someone to spell you and go get some more sleep? I’ve got second watch tonight, and I’m not going to be worth a damn if I don’t rest up between now and then.”

He looked uneasy again, and Carol sighed, pressing her lips briefly to his shoulder. “Okay, I get it. Too much, too fast,” and she stood to go, intending to give him room to sort out his feelings without her presence to muddle things.

Daryl’s hand shot out and caught her wrist before she could move. “Don’t go.” He leaned forward, letting his head rest against her stomach. “‘S all just kinda new, y’know?”

“I know,” she said, stroking his hair. “We can go sleep in our own bunks. Doesn’t have to be together, if you’d rather.”

“No,” he said quickly. “Want to wake up smellin’ you on me. Like this morning.”

“I’ll go find you a replacement then,” she said, smiling, “and we can catch up on our beauty sleep.”

“And tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow, and the next day, and the next… for as long as…” She stopped herself on the brink of the words that came almost by rote on the heels of that phrase. “As long as we have.” 

“Be patient with me, okay? Ain’t used to thinkin’ about tomorrows.”


	3. Day 9: Caryl try (and fail) to keep their relationship a secret

Daryl had a lifetime of playing it close to the vest. With the family he’d grown up in, it had been a simple survival tactic, and it was easy to slip back into those old habits, keeping his eyes hooded and his face a mask. No one was going to figure things out from watching him. He was a sphinx. An enigma. Mister Mysterioso. He took a quick look behind him and disappeared around the corner of the cellblock.

Maggie choked back a laugh and turned away from the tower railing. “I swear, this is better than the soaps.”

Glenn came around from the other side of the balcony to join her. “More sneaky business?”

“Mm-hm,” she said, her face glowing with barely-repressed hilarity. “Now watch: in about five minutes, Carol’s gonna come out that door and go right around the side of the building. She’s kinda scary-good, like she could have taught at spy school or something - she’s so low-key, if it’d been just her I would never have figured it out. Thank god Daryl’s been so easy to read.”

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Glenn snorted.

“I know, right?” Maggie couldn’t stop grinning. “He’s been so jumpy, but not like he’s worried, just - I don’t know, twitchy. Every time she gets close to him, or even if someone mentions her when he’s around…”

Glenn offered a brief but painfully accurate impression of Daryl’s stricken face, ducking his head in mock embarrassment and rubbing the back of his neck.

Maggie quickly clapped a hand over her mouth to smother her bark of laughter. “Exactly! He might as well be wearing a sign.”

“If we didn’t know for sure how he feels about her…” Glenn trailed off, raising an eyebrow at his wife.

“Seriously, Glenn? we’ve been over this. Neither one of them is just cattin’ around. They’re in this for the long haul. Just the fact that it’s taken them this long is proof enough for me.” She slid over and bumped her knee against his. “They’re like us. It’s kismet, baby.”

Glenn leaned in to kiss her then, cupping her face in his hands and falling into those green eyes and her beautiful mouth. He didn’t know how the fuck he’d gotten so lucky, to find this crazy, gorgeous woman at the end of civilization, who knew how to take care of herself and was a whole, grown-up person, and still, somehow, fell in love with him… It was the driving force behind his wish to help his friends find their way to each other. If there was a chance for anyone else to have what he did, he wanted it for them. Because as far as he was concerned, Maggie was what made it still worthwhile to wake up every morning.

Fortunately Maggie kept her eyes open while he was kissing her, because the next moment she whirled out of his arms and around the side of the tower, pretending not to have noticed Carol’s casual exit from the cellblock.

Carol wandered down toward the fence line, shading her eyes against the setting sun as she scanned her surroundings. As her eyes passed the tower she tipped her head up and gave a wave to the watchers before she moved away from them, seeming to be surveying the far fences for weakness.

Glenn slung his arm around Maggie’s neck and kissed her forehead. “You’re right,” he said. “She’s really sneaky. I’m glad she’s on our side.”

“Now comes the fun part,” Maggie purred, pressing herself into his side. “They’ve been getting less cautious the last few days, and this might just be the day they slip up.”

“And then what?” Glenn asked.

“And then,” Maggie grinned, “I’m gonna catch them makin’ out. If it happens between now and Thursday, I’ll be a rich woman.”

“Oh, god, I’m gonna regret asking this,” Glenn sighed, “but why Thursday?”

“‘Cause that’s the day I picked in the pool, silly,” Maggie teased, and when Glenn started to protest she put her lips on his to shut him up. “I know, it’s not fair that we left you out, but honey, everybody knows you can’t keep a secret for shit. Just be my verification and I’ll share the wealth. I know for a fact that there’s a tub of licorice in the pot, and I promise, we win and it’s all yours.”


	4. Day 10: Bubbles

It was a good thing Daryl’s natural sense of balance was so good, otherwise he would have been ass over elbow down the steps as a pack of small humans slipped under his arm and pelted down the stairs ahead of him.

“Come on, you’re gonna love this!” Mika squealed, pulling Luke and Molly along behind her.

Lizzie followed at a slower pace, and as she passed Daryl she gave him a long-suffering look. “Sorry, Mr. Daryl. They’re such _children_.”

He had no idea what was going on, so he just shrugged. “Nothing wrong with being kids. Y’all get little enough of that as it is. Might want to get ‘em to tone it down just a little, though. Mika’s voice carries like a bell. Gets the neighbors all riled up.” He pointed his chin toward the fence line and looked meaningfully at the girl.

Lizzie nodded knowingly and headed off after her sister, who was dancing in the grass beneath the guard tower, jumping in the air and waving her hands. He felt bad when he saw Lizzie come down on her about the noise. Poor kid’s face looked like she just ate a pickle, and she was only trying to have a good time.

Although doing what, he wasn’t at all sure. It was too early for lightning bugs.

Coming up under the tower, he felt a droplet hit his arm, and when he put a finger to it it was sticky, like sugar water. As he looked up, another drop fell, this time landing on his forehead.

“Sorry,” Carol called from above him. She was sitting on the lip of the concrete balcony with her arms draped over the rail and her legs dangling over the edge, barefoot. “You should come on up - the breeze is perfect!” As he watched she raised a piece of bright blue plastic to her lips and blew a long string of iridescent soap bubbles out over the yard, where they drifted down to the enthralled children.

“Do more, Miss Carol!” Luke shouted. “Do big ones!”

“Shush, sweetheart, I’ll try, but I don’t think dish soap works very well for the big ones. You might have to be satisfied with lots and lots of little ones.” She blew again, releasing cascades of tiny transparent pearls that fell in waves toward the watchers. One glob of bubbles landed on Daryl’s head like a crown, and Carol’s delighted laughter rippled down over him, making him smirk in unwilling amusement.

She smiled down at him, and her dancing eyes sent sparks through him, warming him all the way to his toes. “Want to come up and help? There’s a very nice view from here,” she said.

“Why don’t you come down? Give those bubbles to the kids and let them make their own.” He shaded his eyes, looking sidelong up at her, waiting for her to take the hint. 

“What did you have in mind, then?” She wasn’t a bit slow in picking up his signals.

“Well, I was just going for a little walk, but then I got this soap on me, and I’m thinking I need to go out to the pond and have a wash.”

“Clothes, too?” She was already backing slowly toward the hatch.

Michonne stuck her head out the door and frowned down at Daryl. “The two of you are about as subtle as a club. Would you just go already? We got things covered here.”

“Oh, thank god,” Carol said, and shoved the bottle of bubbles into Michonne’s hands. “Your turn to provide the entertainment.”


	5. Day 13: Body rub/massage

She spotted it from clear across the courtyard, the way Daryl was moving with his body canted to one side and his hand pressed to his hip like some kind of dance-hall girl out of an old western. Once he got closer the grimace on his face told her most of the story.

Carol fell into step with him, matching his halting stride as he slowed and stopped at the foot of the stairs up into C block, casting a disgusted glance at the climb in front of him. 

“That bad?” she murmured. 

His face twitched in irritation. “Kinda.”

She clasped his upper arm and turned him toward the cook-shack. “Come over here and sit down, let me see. What did you do this time?” 

“ _I_ don’t know,” he snapped, “turned wrong, bent wrong, something. Feels like there’s a little guy with hot tongs in there pinchin’ at my side.”

Carol guided him to sit astride one of the benches and slid in behind him. She lay one hand on his shoulder, gentling him like a flighty colt. “Tip yourself forward just a little bit. Lean your elbows on your thighs.” He did as she asked, but she could see from the way he was holding himself that he was tense, much too tense for her to do him any good. “Daryl, you have to relax a little, honey.” The endearment slipped out before she could swallow it, and she was relieved when he snorted quietly and some of the rigidity seeped out of his shoulders.

“That better, _dear_?” he growled, still uneasy and hurting, but at least acknowledging she was trying to help, and doing his best not to resist her.

“Much. Now, I’m going to put my hands on your back and see what I can do to ease that for you.” She braced herself with one hand on his shoulder and turned the other to press down along his lower back, looking for the injury, but both the angle and leverage were all wrong.

“Damn, this isn’t working. Okay, don’t go getting spooky on me, I’m going to try something else.” She stood and lowered herself to one knee behind him, wrapping her arm across his chest so she could hold him in place. Her hand slid under the back of his shirt and found the knot she’d felt over his ribs. Daryl hissed and jerked forward as she dug her fingers into it - whether from shock at her touch on his bare skin or trying to escape the pain she wasn’t sure, but Carol didn’t let up.

“Breathe, Daryl,” she crooned into his ear. “Breathe into it and let it go.” Her hands were firm and relentless on him, and his breath got shallow and rapid as she sought the center of the knot and drove her knuckles into it. He knew it was just her hands, but it felt like she was jamming some kind of spike into his back, the way the pain zeroed in under her touch. _Breathe, dumbass. It’s just Carol. She don’t mean to hurt you._ He concentrated on the warmth of her hands on him, and the unexpectedly comforting feeling of her soft breasts pressed against his back. Just at the moment when he thought he’d have to tear himself away or risk lashing out at her, a kind of numbness took over the white-hot point where her fingers concentrated, and she eased off as the muscle spasm released under her hand. 

Daryl was a little white around the lips when she came around in front of him. “You okay?” He nodded, and she extended her hands to help him stand. “If we had a refrigerator I’d say to ice that down, but…” To his absolute amazement, he could move without pain, and he bent from side to side, testing it.

“The fuck you just do to me?” he husked. “Some kinda black ops thing to get the terrorists to give up their secret hideaway or somethin’? Jesus, that was intense.”

“Just a little something I picked up along the way,” Carol teased. “I’m out of practice, though, so I don’t have to register my hands as lethal weapons any more.” 

“Well, remind me not to keep anything important from you. Don’t think I could take another round of that.” 

“You be a good boy,” she murmured, flashing him a grin and slipping past him to run up the block stairs, “and I won’t have to.”


	6. Day 14: Shenanigans in the overturned bus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I really have no idea what this is.

Daryl hauled himself up the first few feet, finding finger- and toeholds on the bus’s undercarriage and hanging on like a monkey until he could reach up and set the crossbow down on the upper side. He couldn’t stand to be inside right now, feeling antsy and off his game. Probably a reaction to the storm front headed in; sometimes the pressure change took him like that.

He’d tried the tower first, thinking Ty was on watch. The big man was soothing company, good at keeping his mouth shut unless there was something actually needed to be said. Instead he found one of the newcomers, guy named Jack. Probably about Daryl’s age, came in with a younger couple a few weeks back. Seemed decent and capable enough but lord could that man talk. He said Glenn had just left to get them some water, and Daryl was grateful not to feel obligated to stick around. Last thing he wanted when he was already on edge was a game of 20 Questions from some newbie, no matter how well-intentioned.

He settled himself at the end of the overturned vehicle, with his legs swinging free over the edge. If he lay flat and still, he realized, he’d be almost invisible in the falling light. That was a more tempting thought than he wanted to admit - how nice it might be to just disappear for a little while, no responsibilities, no one but himself to look after. 

Stupid to even think of it, he knew. Not like wishing was going to make all of these people disappear or instantly develop the ability to do for themselves, and not that he even wanted them to, not really. These days it took the whole community to keep all bodies and souls intact. Damned funny that it took the end of civilization for a Dixon to become a valuable member of it. 

Beneath him the bus’s frame shifted and squeaked, and he was on his feet in a flash, with his buck knife in his fist. There was no accompanying stench of rotting flesh, and besides, how on earth would a walker ever have gotten inside? Whatever - or whoever - it was, his instincts were screaming at him to take care of the threat, and he edged closer to the nearest open window, trying simultaneously to see inside and keep his head from becoming a target.

Carol’s splutter of laughter was the last thing he expected, and a second later he was belly-down, peering through the window. 

She was staring up at him, wide-eyed around the hands clamped over her mouth, and gave in to whatever deviltry had her in its grip, falling back against one of the seat cushions, having a fit of the giggles. 

He was utterly mesmerized. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen or heard anyone laugh that freely, not even the kids, and she gave herself over to it wholly, until she was giddy and breathless. 

“Your face!” she gasped, when she could finally draw a breath. “I swear I don’t mean to make fun, but oh, your face, Daryl. That was priceless.”

If it got her laughing like that he was happy to be the butt of the joke. “Come on out of there, now,” he said, putting a hand out to help her up. “What are you doing, anyway?”

Carol ducked out of reach and put both hands behind her back. “You come down.” An impish spark filled her eyes “Come on! Quick, before they see us.”

He shot a look around the yard to be sure no one was watching, and dropped himself into the rusting hulk. Instantly he was surrounded by the smell of decay - mildewed cushions, rotting leaves.

Now that he was down there he didn’t understand why. She’d said to, that’s why. She’d made a crazy, inexplicable suggestion and he hadn’t given a single thought to saying no. Still, it didn’t hurt to ask. “What exactly are we doing again?”

“ _Hiding_ ,” she said, like that was self-evident, and he supposed it was. He had to admit it was tempting to stay there and hide out with her, if only for the company, but the surroundings left a lot to be desired.

“Let’s go,” he said, stepping up on the side of a seat and preparing to boost himself back out. He saw her look of disappointment as Carol hung back, but when he reached back down she was waiting, and allowed him to help her up and out. 

She started to sit, but realized he was already climbing down to the ground. “Can’t we even take a few minutes to ourselves?” she complained. 

“Sure,” he said, putting his hands up, just in case she slipped, “just not here. I know a good hideout, someplace just as safe that don’t stink like rotten vegetables.”


	7. Day 15: the first kiss

The first few days were a jumble of sorting things out - tending to injuries, rounding up the handful of hollow-eyed refugees they’d pulled out of the other two railroad cars, trying to sort out what among the supplies of a gutted Terminus they could take with them (no one even considered that any of the cooked meat might be edible), getting them all fit to travel - and after that they’d been on the move for nearly a week, pressing forward past scant reserves of energy and stamina to get somewhere they could put their backs against a wall and finally take a deep breath or two.

The old school was a godsend - lower windows long since bricked up, only two ways in or out, and at some point someone had apparently tried to make a go of it there, clearing the long-stored furniture out of some of the rooms to create several workable living spaces. It looked like two, maybe three family groups. There was no sign of what had happened to them, but they’d left behind a cache of gallons of water and canned goods; some candles, and a small stack of paperback books. 

Daryl whistled to catch Carol’s attention and flipped the top one into her hands. “Looks like your kind of folks.”

She turned it over to read the title. “'The Sound and the Fury.' I never got around to reading this one. Thanks.” She tucked it into her pack and smiled briefly at him, nothing more than the distant polite response programmed by childhood indoctrination. There was a world of difference between that and the smile she gave him when her heart was in it.

He missed that smile.

They posted watch at opposite corners of the second floor, the sentries each stationed between two open windows to keep an eye on all four directions at once. Those not on guard plowed silently through a can of whatever came to hand and collapsed onto their bedrolls, the sensation of being “safe” for the first time since they’d fled the prison acting like a sedative.

Rick clapped Daryl on the shoulder with a tired grin as they traded places a couple of hours later, and Daryl settled himself into the chair in the corner. The night was quiet out there. One maddening thing about their captivity at Terminus had been how the walls of the train car had muffled the outside noises he couldn’t help but strain to hear, making it impossible to hear what or who might be coming for them. By contrast, open windows made standing watch seem effortless.

He was on his feet and turning toward the door before he even registered the sound of her footfall.

“It’s just me, Daryl.”

He could just see her outline against the doorway. “Everything okay down there?”

“Seems to be. Everyone’s asleep. Except me.” She slipped around him and leaned in the corner, between the windows. “There. Now you can talk to me and still keep an eye out for trouble.”

“We got something to talk about?”

The second he said it he wished he could take it back. He hadn’t meant it like an accusation, not really. From her gasp and immediate exhalation he knew he’d scored a direct hit, and while it almost made him sick to his stomach, knowing he’d hurt her, there was another piece of him that was glad. Part and parcel of how it had been since she’d come down like an avenging angel, turning Terminus into a bonfire and giving them the chance to get free of the place.

He hated everything about the way he’d been feeling. Like a damn fool for getting trapped like a dumb animal by their captors. Weak and helpless as they waited in the train car. Then Carol was there, standing tall and capable and bringing them out of Egypt, and he saw she didn’t need him anymore.

It was wrong, but he was glad to find he could still make her feel something.

“I suppose I deserve that,” she whispered. “So much has happened, I’d almost forgotten. You must be angry. Why would you want to talk, after what I did?” She slid down the wall, her body puddling onto the floor.

He had been angry, once, for a few moments. That she’d taken matters into her own hands and not trusted him enough even to let him in on it before she acted. But there hadn’t been time to dwell on it before everything had gone straight to hell, and now - now he was just so relieved to have her back in arm’s reach it made him dizzy.

“No.” He bent over her and raised her up, cradling her against him. “That ain’t what I meant to say.”

He settled back into the chair, holding her on his lap, the way he’d dreamed of doing so many times, and she went limp in his arms and began to cry hopelessly, like she had on those nights when her fear for Sophia had kept her from sleep.

“I’m so sorry,” she said against his neck, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…”

He rocked her as best he could, smoothing his hand over her hair. “Hush, sweetheart, it’s all done now. I got you. I got you, and I ain’t letting go.”

He felt her still against him, and when she turned her head, letting her lips graze along his jaw, it was the most natural thing in the world to bend to meet her mouth, so soft and sweet, rose petals against his chapped skin.

When he opened his eyes she was smiling. Not out of politeness now, but like everything was right. “That’s been a long time coming.”

He could only nod. “Mm-hm.”

There was so much more he wanted to say, how badly he’d missed her, how proud he was that she’d managed alone out there, not only survived but come through the tempering fire stronger than ever. She had stories to tell - he could see it when she’d spoken of Ryan’s girls, and the moment she’d put Judith in Rick’s arms again - and he wanted nothing more than to sit there and hold her and listen. But -

She read his mind, the way she always had. “I’m distracting you from your job. I should go.”

“No, you should stay.” He turned her a little, so she was leaning back against his chest. “Stay right here, just like this.”


	8. Day 17: Carl ships Caryl

Sometimes Carl was still a kid, but not very often these days. He lit up like a lightning bug every time Michonne came back from the hunt and presented him with another stack of comic books, but that was about the only thing that cracked the shell of self-preservation he carried. That, and his baby sister, but only a monster could resist Jude’s blue eyes and baby squeals.

Today he sat, cool and hard-eyed, at the edge of the group planning the next day’s run. Occasionally he’d offer his own feedback on some part of the plan, but most of the time he just listened. Given his history of impulsive behavior, like running off and getting himself into sticky situations, most of the adults were relieved at what they took as a sign of growing maturity.

Carol wanted to cry for him. He’d been such a funny kid when she’d met him, full of pranks and energy. Sophia had been quite taken with him, although she’d claimed otherwise: a mother could tell such things.

_He doesn’t even smile these days, not really_ , Carol thought sadly. Another casualty of an unending war, a boy’s sunny face. “But _you_ smile enough for both of you,” she whispered, bouncing the wiggly baby on her lap. “Don’t you, angel?” 

When she looked up Carl had turned toward them, and the ghost of a grin glimmered on his face - almost normal for just a second.

As the meeting broke up he wandered by to chuck Judith under the chin and steal her nose, a trick that captivated the baby every time. “She loves that one,” Carol commented. “Sure you don’t want to take her for a bit? She’s been missing her big brother, with you so busy all the time.”

Carl sighed. “Can’t. I’m supposed to help Dad to expand the pigpen. She likes you better anyway.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Carol said, ruffling his hair. Carl ducked away, grimacing, and backed straight into the path of Daryl, who spun balletically out of his way and came around Carol’s other side to scoop Jude out of her lap.

“What are we talkin’ about?” Daryl asked, plopping down next to her with the baby on his arm. He was practically zinging with restrained energy at the prospect of getting out of the prison on the upcoming run. 

“Construction projects. Child care duties. Who Judith likes best,” Carol said, ticking the topics off on her fingers.

“That’s easy, she likes Unc Daryl best, _don’t you sweetheart_.” Carol had to bury her face in her shoulder to hide her smile. For such a rough and tumble guy, Daryl Dixon was amazingly sweet and gentle in the presence of the prison’s resident baby goddess, and it made her heart do a strange little dance to watch them together. 

“Perfect. Then you get to take her for a bit while I walk down to talk gardening with Rick.” Her hand grazed Daryl’s arm for a second as she bent to kiss Judith’s head, and as she straightened, his eyes were on her, their corners crinkling in one of his not-quite-smiles. She smiled back, resisting the urge to run her hand through his bangs.

“Come on, my fine companion, let’s go find your dad and see what kind of trouble we can get into.” Carl groaned dramatically, scuffling his feet in the dirt as he followed Carol down to the combination pig pen and stable they’d erected earlier in the year

After a few moments he stopped and turned back, watching Daryl as he and his tiny charge made their way over to the tower. “He really does love you, y’know.”

Her first instinct was to claim ignorance, but she didn’t have it in her to lie and treat him like a child who needed to be protected from trespassing boundaries he had no right to cross. “I know he does, honey. It’s complicated, though.”

The look he gave her, wry disbelief peeking out from under dark lashes, was pure Rick. “I don’t get that part. How you love someone but you let stuff get in the way.” He shrugged, that teenaged abrupt up-and-down that signified everything and nothing. “Like my mom and dad. I know they loved each other, but things got screwed up, and it still hurts him that they didn’t get to work it out.”

When he raised his head again Carol saw tears glistening in his eyes. “Oh, honey.” What could she say that could possibly make that any better? “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Carl said bitterly. “Just don’t let it get messed up, like Dad did.” And he spun on his heel and walked away.


	9. Day 18: The Jasper Stone

Carol held the tattered pants up in front of her and shook her head at the sad verdict.

"I’m sorry, Daryl, but there’s hardly enough left here to mend. I’m not even sure they’ll hold up to another washing. Now that you’ve got another pair, we’re probably better off taking the parts we can salvage, like the waistband… maybe the zipper, if I can figure out how to remove it… and sticking the rest in the bag to use for patching."

He shrugged, dejected. “Really liked those pants,” he mumbled, stretching a hand out. “Give ‘em here for a sec, before you tear ‘em up.”

He fished a hand through the pockets, coming up with a pair of nail clippers, a tube of wax for his crossbow, and a greenish stone. This last he held in his palm, staring down at it like it was a Magic Eight Ball, holding some sort of mystical answer for him.

When he looked up, her eyes were soft and understanding, and she covered his hand with hers, wrapping her fingers over the stone between their palms.

“How do you do that?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“Always know when I got a bug up my ass about something.”

“Oh, that,” she said, smiling. “You’re not as much of a mystery as you might like to think, Daryl. Not to me.” She took the cast-off pants back from him and began to pick out the stitches that held the belt loops in place.

“You gotta do that right this second?” he groused, half-heartedly. “Give a guy a minute to get used to leaving an old friend.” The longer he got her to put it off, the longer she’d sit with him, talking about nothing. Just letting him be with her. Little enough time for quiet, and in the morning they’d be moving on again.

She made a wry mouth at him and dropped the project into her lap, settling back against the bench. “You let me know when you feel you can handle it, why don’t you? Meanwhile, how about you tell me the story of that rock you’ve been toting around in your pocket?”

“Miz Richards. Back at the prison, she asked me to keep an eye out for a piece of green jasper for her old man’s grave.” He couldn’t imagine Mrs. Richards had made it. If she’d gotten out at all, she was likely part of the ill-fated contingent on the evacuation bus, and Maggie and Sasha had told them what had become of that. And the grave itself was now part of the blasted no-man’s-land of the prison grounds. The stone would never mark the man’s final resting place.

Carol nodded and carefully took the stone from him. “And you’re still carrying it because…” 

“I dunno,” he admitted. “At first it was because I thought maybe I’d see her again. Have a chance to give it to her. Then it seemed like someone should remember.”

He shrugged again. “They were together forty-some years. Made it through all that time, together. Survived the Turn, for fuck’s sake. Both teachers. He taught history, she had English. Don’t seem right that there’s no one left who knew that.”

She leaned over and put the stone back in his hand, closing his fingers around it. “Well, they have you to remember them, and now me. ‘As long as we are remembered, we remain alive.’”

He stole a sideways look at her as she picked up his tattered old cargos again, using the tip of a salvaged finishing nail to rip out the stitching.

“Deep,” he grumbled. He liked it when she said cosmic shit like that, though. Made things seem somehow halfway normal again, a normal conversation between two adults, even though there’d been little room in his life Before for such things.

“Don’t give me the credit, I stole it from a writer.”


	10. Day 21: Caryl at Maggie & Glenn’s wedding

“I know there’s a million things to do, getting all these new people settled, but we just wanted… before we get all caught up in fighting a whole bunch of new fires…” Glenn turned to Maggie with a look of panic, and she stepped up to take his hand.

“What he’s tryin’ to say is, we’re gettin’ married. Like, _today_ , and we want all y’all as witnesses.”

Pandemonium reigned.

Well, a low-key sort of pandemonium, the only kind that was safe when you were walled off from wandering packs of flesh-eating monsters by only a series of chain-link fences.

Beth squealed, Rick hugged both of the happy couple simultaneously, Carol smiled with a hint of wistful envy… and Daryl turned away, muttering under his breath. Fortunately neither Maggie nor Glenn noticed. Beaming Papa Hershel, on the other hand, glared at Daryl’s departing back and turned on his crutches to follow after. 

Carol stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Let him go,” she said. “I’ll get him back here in a little while. You have a wedding to sort out.”

“See that you do,” Hershel said, with a note of injured pride. “My girl wants her family there, _everyone_ , and I don’t care what wild hair he has up his backside, he needs to get over it and show up.”

The grand event was set to take place just before dinner, and Rick had agreed to perform the ceremony. Everyone dispersed to the four corners in search of clean(er) clothes, and priority was given to hauling extra water so they could wash up.

Meanwhile Carol tracked Daryl down to the perch in C block, where he had disassembled the crossbow and was painstakingly putting it back together. 

“Want to tell me what was up with that business out there?”

“Not really,” he said, so softly she almost couldn’t hear him.

“You planning on being at the wedding?”

“Not really.” He made one final adjustment to the tension and set the bow aside, finally raising his head and eyeing Carol, daring her to keep poking the bear.

“Is there a particular reason why you’re acting like a jackass about this?”

“The _fuck_ you talkin’ about?” He exploded onto his feet. “Just ‘cause I ain’t all sunshine and roses over this little shindig…” He looked like he wanted to hit something. Something yielding and breakable. Preferably something that would bleed.

She wasn’t backing down, though, and he couldn’t get down the stairs and away from her while she was blocking his path.

“You finished?” Carol tipped her head toward the empty space next to her on the top step. “Come on. Have a seat.”

When he realized she wasn’t going to let him get away without some kind of confessional moment, he sighed and dropped down on the step beside her. “What d’you want from me, anyway?”

“I want you to talk to me, Daryl,” she said. “I know you’re hurting, and I want to help if I can. I imagine this must seem like spectacularly bad timing - people celebrating when your brother is dead. Is that it?”

“None of y’all seem to get it,” he said. “It’s damn stupid to go around makin’ promises about forever when we all could be dead tomorrow.”

The despair in his voice twisted like a blade in Carol’s heart. “I can’t say you’re wrong. Maybe it _is_ stupid. But the only other choice is that we don’t let ourselves love each other, and if that’s the case, then what are we staying alive for? If we wall ourselves off to keep from being hurt… well, I don’t know that I’d want to go on like that.”

He scrubbed his hands over his face, tension riding in every fiber of his body. “Don’t know how you do it. How you keep believing.”

“It’s hope, Daryl. Hope, and taking joy where I can find it. Like when two friends of ours decide that they don’t have any doubts any more, and that whatever pain may come in the future, it’s worth the risk, to love each other now. I need to share that with them. It’s the light in the darkness, for me.”

She laughed ruefully. “Plus, I won’t lie, I’m a total sap for weddings.” 

The look on his face couldn’t be called a smile, but it was more pleasant than the scowl he’d been wearing. “You gonna cry?”

“Probably. I don’t know for sure. You’ll have to show up and see for yourself.”


	11. Day 27: Newcomers to the group mistaking Caryl for a married couple

_Make them welcome, get them settled, then put ‘em to work_ , Rick had said. Well, she’d do what she could.

When the dark-haired woman showed up in the kitchen after breakfast, Beth sat her down with a pad of paper and a pen, and together they made a start on a roster of every person who had come in from Woodbury, and everything about them that Janice could remember. Who was paired up, who still had blood family living, what skills they might have, even which of them had lived in Woodbury the longest. Trying to integrate so many all at once, they’d need every advantage they could get to smooth the way.

It was the sort of project Carol would normally have headed up, but she had her own plate full trying to help Hershel get a handle on the illnesses and injuries, plus trying to figure out to do with the handful of stray children. Poor babies, but if anyone could sort them out it was Carol.

_So much for being an idle teenager,_ Beth thought to herself. She thought her stepmother Annette would have been proud of how she’d made her place here, though. Made her place, and wasn’t shy about stepping in where she saw a need. She might not be strong but she was capable, and that counted for something.

The list when complete took her breath away. More than two dozen new souls to be housed and clothed and fed, and all too few of them able-bodied adults. _Lord, mama, how will we ever manage?_

“So, turnabout’s fair play - tell me about your people?” Janice was pleasant enough, but there was a sharpness to her that set Beth’s teeth on edge. Or maybe it was just that this was her family the woman was asking about, and all of them were a little leery about sharing too much too soon. “I already know that what the Governor told us about you was pure fabrication, so as far as I’m concerned you’re all a blank slate.”

“Oh, well, us - there’s my sister Maggie and our daddy - he’s the one with the crutches, and he knows some medicine so he takes care of our sick.” She didn’t want to admit Hershel’s patients before the Turn hadn’t been human. People might be funny about that sort of thing. “Maggie’s with Glenn, you met him yesterday. Then there’s Rick, who you know, and Carl and baby Judith are his kids.”

“Who was the gray-haired woman? She’s not that baby’s mom?” Carol had made an impression on all of the newcomers, greeting them as they disembarked from the bus from Woodbury and marshaling sleeping arrangements in remarkably short order that first night.

“That’s Carol. She’s really good with kids - right now she’s trying to find people for all the little ones to bunk in with, so they’re not alone if they have bad dreams - but Judith’s mom Lori died… when she was born.” Recounting it like that, it felt so distant already. Everything moved so quickly.

“So, Carol and her husband have any kids of their own?”

“Well, there was her daughter Sophia, but she died a while back.”

“I imagine they’re probably not thinking of having more now. I mean, if she’s even able.” The woman’s comments were beginning to make Beth uncomfortable.

“Oh, no,” she said quickly. “Carol’s husband’s dead.”

“My god, what happened?”

“He was bit. Way I heard it, she put him down with a _pickaxe_ before he turned.”

Janice shook her head in bewilderment. “Wait, I just saw him yesterday. When did all this happen? Did he get bit on a run?”

Now it was Beth’s turn to shake her head. “No, no, Carol’s husband died back before I even met her. Back when it all started.”

Janice held up her hands. “Okay, now I’m really confused. Carol’s the woman with the short hair, the one who basically runs things around here, right? And her husband, he was one of the ones who brought us in. Carries a crossbow, kind of good-looking in a scruffy way?

“That’s Daryl. He’s not her husband.”

“Well, okay, I know these days there’s not much opportunity for an official blessing, but they’re pretty much married, aren’t they?”

“Um, nope. I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t feel right to be talking about people like that. I mean, you don’t even know them.”

“But they’re together.” Beth couldn’t help but think there was something odd about the woman’s insistence on nailing down the nature of the relationship, but she resigned herself to the need to make it clear, whatever the reason was.

“They are… I don’t even think there’s a word. ‘Soulmates’ sounds hokey as all get out, don’t it? But that’s about the size of it. She’s for him, and he’s for her.” She was starting to get a sneaking suspicion that this Janice had gotten a look at Daryl and decided she’d like to take his measure. “Now, I appreciate you helping with this list. It’s going to make it a whole lot easier to get your people settled here. And I’m sure that’s what you want, same as us - to fit in with the least amount of fuss we can manage. I’ll be sure to let Carol know how helpful you were, too.”

She didn’t want to insult the woman by implying something she hadn’t meant, but she’d be doggoned if any of these new people were going to come in and start making trouble for those two. They’d had enough rough waters to navigate already.


End file.
